


Hold Me Tight, or Don't

by kentuckybarnes (hannah_jpg)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Or their voices do at least, other characters appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 23:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16274831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_jpg/pseuds/kentuckybarnes
Summary: You’ve been unwillingly stuck in a trap with Bucky Barnes. It wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t kissed you that one time. The prompt was, “I know you can scream a lot louder than that.”





	Hold Me Tight, or Don't

As far as evenings go, this is probably the worst way to spend it.

You rub the headache building at your temples as Bucky fruitlessly slams his metal fist into the iron bunker wall. It’s been several minutes since you’d fallen into the trap - he’d followed you in with the noble intention to get you out, but a heavy door had covered the pit before there was a chance to escape. And now the two of you are stuck in a hole on Hydra property.

Night missions. Not your favorite.

“Bucky,” you murmur. “ _Stop_.”

Breathing ragged, he turns to face you in the dim light - there are only a few emergency lights in the pit. Hope for electricity - hope for escape. But for now, you merely sigh tiredly as Bucky scowls.

“We’re idiots,” he says bitingly.

“And saying so isn’t going to get us out any sooner,” you tell him. “How close were Steve and Nat when we fell in?”

Bucky fumbles with the tracking device on his belt. He pauses, then shakes it vigorously. “It’s not working,” he growls. “No service.” You jolt as he throws it angrily on the ground, grinding the heel of his combat boot into the device. A horrible crunch, and pieces scatter across the concrete floor.

“It would have worked when we get out of here,” you say evenly, suppressing the urge to strangle the man with your bare hands. He lifts his head to stare at you through the curtain of dark hair falling in his face, and you add, “Guess not anymore.”

Bucky’s nostrils flare. “Are you doing that on purpose?” he demands.

“Doing what? Remaining calm?”

“Looking at me like I’m a scummy bastard and you want to cave my face in.”

You arch a brow, hands on your hips as you square off with Bucky across the pit. Not the time you would have chosen for this confrontation, but circumstances have a funny way of bringing things to a head. You suck in a breath.

“Firstly, you are a scummy bastard, and secondly, if I tried to cave your face in I would break my hand. Now if there’s a lead pipe lying around…”

“I wouldn’t give it to  _you_ ,” Bucky snaps back. “This is why I didn’t want to talk to you after - after, you know.”

Oh, you know. Closing your eyes briefly to summon patience, cleverness - whatever would come, you reply in a low voice. “Bucky…I won’t deny you’re intelligent but sometimes…you’re an idiot.”

Silence. “Beg pardon?”

“I can’t say exactly why you’ve been avoiding me, but I  _can_ tell you that keeping your distance after professing attraction to a woman is a very bad move. Whether it’s me or someone else.” You peel open your eyes to meet his gaze steadily. His expression has softened, but hardness lingers.

“I didn’t want to mess things up,” Bucky says roughly. “And since then you’ve been a real brat, so…”

“I’ve been angry, Buck. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Well - ” He opens his mouth, brow scrunching as he considers this, but hesitates. His eyes dart to the ceiling, and likewise yours follow. Your hearing isn’t as good as his, so it’s a relief when he says, “I can hear footsteps. Steve’s tread.”

“Good.  _Now_  would be the time to punch the wall, if you know what I mean,” you tell him.

“No good. It’ll echo down whatever hall is behind the door, and I’m not tall enough to knock politely on the ceiling.”

“I’ll hold you on my shoulders,” you say, teasing.

“Funny.” Bucky’s eyes glitter, but he doesn’t laugh. “Well, it was your idea.” And he crouches to the ground on one knee, directly in front of you as he gazes up at you. “Hop on.”

“Um - ”

“Don’t be a prude. Stand on my shoulders and you can bang on the ceiling.”

A moment of hesitation - but this isn’t really the time to be stubborn. You want out. Every minute you seem to get closer to clocking Bucky in the face or kissing him senseless. To cover your roiling emotions, you clear your throat and swing your knee over his shoulder, balancing as best you can with all your weight on him.

He stands, almost effortlessly. The height causes dizziness to make your brain go a little fuzzy, and in panic you clutch Bucky’s head as he takes a few steps forward.

“Okay,” he says. “You can stand now. I’ve got you.” A note of comfort, of confidence and strength has entered his voice. A tone that he’s only used on you once before, but which immediately calms your anxiety. Keeping your fingers pressed into his skull, you lift up one booted foot to plant on his shoulder, and then the other. His hands are wrapped around your feet, keeping you steady.

“Good,” he grunts, shifting slightly. “Go on.”

Slowly you start to stand, breathing out deeply. Bucky has you. He won’t let you fall - you know that much. He might kiss you at a party and then ignore you for the next three weeks, but he won’t let you fall on your face in a concrete bunker.

It’s difficult to decide if that makes you like him more or less. But now’s not the time.

Once fully straight, you reach up your hands towards the ceiling. Your fingertips just barely brush the cold metal door, and you feel vibrations from footsteps above. Now, so near, you can hear muffled voices.

“That’s still Steve, right?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Bucky says in a strained voice.

You pound your fist on the door, and shout, “Steve! STEVE!”

No response. The voices continue.

“You’re gonna have to be louder, honey,” Bucky tells you.

“That was plenty loud!”

“Uh huh.” You hear skepticism is tone, and he adds, “I know for a fact that you can be a  _lot_ louder than that.”

“Oh, stuff it - ” Cheeks hot, you pound with renewed vigor on the ceiling, and positively scream Steve’s name. That he’ll get you out of this pit, away from Bucky and the confusion he evokes…

“ _Steve you dingbat, get us out of here or so help me -_ ”

The voices stop. A loud bang on the ceiling jerks you backwards in surprise, and you hear a shout come through,

“Are you guys in there?”

“YES!”

“Ok, we’ll get you out. Hold tight.”

“They’re going to get us out,” you tell Bucky unnecessarily, glancing down at the top of his head. “Let me down.”

“What if I need to lift you so they need to haul you out?”

“Then you can lift me again when the time comes. It’ll be awhile until they can open the door, I think, and I’m getting vertigo.”

Bucky gives a huff of laughter, but obligingly lifts his hands for you to take, carefully keeping your balance as you lower yourself. But without his hold on your feet, the sole of your boot slips back on the material of his tac vest. Shrieking, you fall forwards, prepared to break your nose on the ground and never hearing the end of it from Clint and Sam -

Bucky’s strong hands are still on yours, and he jerks them backwards, effectively twisting your body into a complete forward flip. Your feet slam on the ground, sending twinges of pain into your bones - but otherwise, you’re not hurt. At all. His chest is pressed into your back, and his hands still grip yours mercilessly as you try to calm your heartbeat.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

“You’re welcome.” Bucky’s breath is hot in your ear. If you’re not mistaken, his breath is a little ragged… Slowly but suddenly, his hands are stroking upwards on your arm until his fingers dig into your waist despite the gear in the way. Barely able to breathe, you allow yourself to be spun around to face him.

Bucky’s face is only inches from yours, his eyes a little too bright and his lips parted as his tongue darts out to wet them. Oh, glory - you’ve been here before. Not the pit. But at Bucky’s mercy, when he clearly intends to show none.

“I’m not doing this again, Buck,” you tell him fiercely, though you don’t move. “I won’t be made a fool - ”

His mouth descends on yours. An effective way of shutting you up, you suppose - but you’re too busy tangling your fingers into his messy bun to drag him closer to complain. His lips are hot and dry, his breath warm in your mouth as you moan slightly, leaning forward to be devoured.

Bucky’s chuckling as he moves away, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “What were you saying?”

With a huff you release him, planting your hands on his chest to push him away. “Bucky Barnes, you are the  _worst_ ,” you say fervently. But he lifts his hands in surrender, and in pleading. It’s really unfair how he can pout so  _sexily_.

“Come on, honey - give me a second chance. I’m sorry for teasing - and I’m sorry I gave you the silent treatment after that night. I’m not afraid anymore. Well, not of being with you. I guess I’m still a little afraid of  _you_.”

“As you should be,” you say back roughly, crossing your arms in frustration. This only makes his smile broaden and deepen, and his blue eyes begin to sparkle even in the dim light of the pit.

“If you didn’t want to be with me, you wouldn’t be so mad at me,” Bucky points out. You lift your chin.

“Probably. What about it.”

“Let’s go on a date. After the mission. Wherever you like - whatever you like.” He’s still smiling, though it has softened to something that causes warm tingles through your limbs.

“Well,” you say, trying to be reasonable. “I guess it - ”

There’s a massive, loud clang on the ceiling of the pit, and your hand immediately flies to the pistol at your side. Glancing up, you wince at the squeaks and groans as the door begins to slide back.

“Was that a yes?” Bucky asks. You glance back at him, surprised to see his eyes still on you rather than what’s happening above. A grin pulls your lips upward - it’s too good a moment to pass up.

“Ask me in three weeks,” you say sweetly. “Then we’ll be even.”

“But - ”

Steve’s head peeks through the door. It’s not open all the way, but certainly enough to climb out of. “I got a ladder,” he calls down to the pair of you. “Nat’s on lookout - we gotta be fast. I think there are a couple guards still around.”

Ignoring Bucky’s exasperated look (was he even listening to Steve?), you walk over to stand below where Steve is lowering a rope ladder. Catching the end, you start to climb without a backwards glance.

You’ll probably put him out of his misery sooner than the three weeks, but there’s no reason to tell him that  _quite_  yet.


End file.
